


Last Moments

by igiveup101



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mostly the former, nevermind it's really just hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igiveup101/pseuds/igiveup101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney knows death. He knows it intimately. And it terrifies him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Moments

**Author's Note:**

> It wasn't beta'd, so any mistakes are mine.

Rodney knows death. He knows it intimately. And it terrifies him.

The Atlantis expedition is a death sentence, he thinks sometimes. Carson, Ford, Elizabeth- he could go on forever, listing the casualties. Grodin, Dumais, Gall, Abrams, Wagner, Griffin, Collins, Lindstrom, on and on and on. It doesn’t just apply to the members of the expedition, either.

The Pegasus galaxy wasn’t much when they found it, living permanently under the shadow of the wraith. What had been left, they’ve mostly destroyed since coming here. They woke the wraith, they created the Hoffan drug, they blew up 5/6ths of a solar system, they created Michael, and they reprogrammed the replicators. Almost none of the major problems facing this galaxy now _aren’t_ their fault, some way or another.

So yes, the expedition is a death sentence, and it was really only a matter of time before it killed Rodney, too. He was just hoping it wouldn’t be this soon. Still, he supposes, of the many, many ways he’s imagined dying or nearly did die, being shot isn’t the _absolute_ worst. It’s better than drowning in a jumper at the bottom of the sea, being killed by a lemon that slipped past his defenses, or slowly losing your mind to a brain parasite, and it’s certainly better than feeding yourself to a wraith to save the sister you nearly got killed.

But it’s a little hard, when you’re dying, to be grateful that you aren’t dying _worse_ , so the thought doesn’t particularly help. Rodney’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but he’s pretty sure his body is completely disconnected from his brain right now. In fact, he’s relatively certain his body is screaming bloody murder- literally- and his arms are flailing wildly, at some point trying to grab some of the intestines spilled around them to shove them back where they belong.

Obviously this didn’t work, and Rodney can’t help but kind of hate his arms for it, because that makes things hurt a lot worse than they did before, and they hurt a lot. He’s leaning against a rock- or, more accurately, is being held up entirely by the rock- with Sheppard by his side, still shooting. Sheppard had dragged him this far, for which Rodney would have been grateful if he hadn’t also been occupied trying not to die.

But he isn’t stupid. He knows he’s going to die, today, really soon. He doesn’t want to. He wants to live, and learn more about the universe, and watch stupid movies with Sheppard and have tea with Teyla and even train with Ronon. He just wants to live, desperately, and he hates that it doesn’t matter.

So he uselessly tries to apply pressure to the mess that is his torso, which really doesn’t serve to do anything but make it hurt more. You can’t get shot like this, you can’t bleed like that and not die. Rodney doesn’t know what kind of ridiculous automatic machine guns they have on this backwards planet, but he knows they got at least 5 bullets in him while he was going down, which he thinks is a lot.

Finally the shooting stops, and the Sheppard is leaning over him. “Rodney. Rodney. Jesus Christ, okay, okay okay, you’re going to be fine, buddy. Right? Right, McKay? McKay!”

After a moment, Rodney realizes Sheppard expects him to answer. He has no idea what it is Sheppard even said. So he just nods tightly and releases a noise he hopes sounds affirmative. It must not have been the case, though, because Sheppard goes completely white. It makes Rodney laugh a little, because now Sheppard’s almost monochrome- white skin, black hair, black uniform- except that laughing makes him release another noise that doesn’t even sound completely human. He hopes Sheppard didn’t notice. By the look on Sheppard’s face, he did.

Then Sheppard’s hands are replacing his on the gaping wound, and when did John take his shirt off? But he’s using it as a towel, oh, that makes sense, but what a waste- a good shirt for a dead man. Jesus, the pressure hurts, hurts _a lot_ , and Rodney tries to focus on breathing. He figures he’s got a few minutes left, at most, so he wants to make them count.

“Tell Zelenka to take over,” he forces out, and he can hear how strained the words are almost more than he can feel it. “and tell everyone else… tell them bye, for me, because- _jesus fucking christ, fuck_ \- tell them I said something good, and, and, and deep, make something up- fuck, fuck, Sheppard, stop, stop pressing on it, it’s not going to do any good, please, stop-”

But John keeps applying pressure, staring at Rodney with wild eyes. “Shut up, McKay. You’re not going to die, so just shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this one,” Rodney keeps going, because even if Sheppard won’t face the inevitable, he will. “It’s seriously … seriously not your fault, but you tend- jesus, jesus christ- you tend to find some way to blame- oh, god-  blame yourself anyway, and if you do that… I’m seriously… going to haunt your ass- John, no, John, please just- _please stop touching it_ , oh god, okay, fuck, jesus fucking christ...”

He wishes he could keep talking, because there’s more to say, but the pain is starting to black out his vision- or that could be the blood loss- and John’s frantic attempts to help are making it much, much worse.  It’s John’s turn to babble now, and Rodney can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears, but he thinks he can see _tears_ in Sheppard’s eyes, and there’s something incredibly wrong about that.

But it’s his last chance to speak, and it’s going to be over soon anyway, so he keeps talking. “Ronon… and Teyla… and, and Jennifer… and Sam…” He’s forcing the words out, but he can’t do it much longer, because it hurts and he can already feel himself fading, “don’t let them… feel guilty... about anything, either… I know how… you masochists work...oh, god, _I don’t want to die_ -” and wow, he didn’t mean for that last part to slip out.

Sheppard’s staring at him again, eyes desperate, and mouth moving quickly, and he keeps pushing on Rodney’s torso and Rodney thinks he genuinely doesn’t notice he’s making it worse.

He wants better last words than that, he spent too much time making his life mean something for his death to be that pathetic, but he can’t think and there’s no way he can keep talking, so as he feels his body shutting down and his vision goes dark, he decides to end it on a high note.

**  
** _“John-”_


End file.
